by Nikki Sloane
“And you?” Macalister’s look bore into me. “You have no feelings for Royce in anything other than a sexual capacity?”
Jesus. I licked my dry lips but surprised myself with how detached it came from me. “Yes, sir.”
Did Macalister believe me? His head tilted as he evaluated both of us. “All right.” He brought his hands together and leaned forward to rest his forearms on the desk, his attention directed at his son. “Then I don’t see any reason for you to object to me pursuing a sexual relationship with Marist.”
My heart stopped. “What?”
“Excuse me?” Royce said at the same time.
The library became a vacuum. Icy fingers plunged inside my chest, wringing the air from my lungs.
Was this another one of Macalister’s tests? His half-smile was pure evil as he turned it on me. “As I mentioned, you’re a beautiful young woman. While I’m glad you are here, I find myself wishing I hadn’t traded away my time to Royce. If there are no emotions for either of you, I don’t see the issue.”
“No,” I snarled.
He wasn’t fazed, but his son?
Royce struggled. His expression was devoid of any emotion, but his hand on the armrest was clenched in a fist, so hard it was white, and I could see the tendons straining.
Macalister focused on his son, his gaze moving from the tense fist up to meet his eyes. “You’ll continue your engagement and see it through the marriage. Everyone will believe she’s your wife, and she will be, but in name only. When we’re here, she’ll be mine.” His eyes were terrifying as he flexed his power. “Not yours.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
An earthquake of panic overtook me. Royce had warned me this could happen. He’d said his father might take me away from him. How he felt he truly owned everything Royce had.
“I imagine this isn’t appealing to you,” Macalister said. “In exchange for Marist, I would be willing to offer you stock.”
It bubbled up, escaping from me in a raging blur. “I’m not a piece of property that can be bought and sold.”
Macalister looked down his long nose at me. “Is that so? There’s a ring on your finger and a five-million-dollar deposit in your family’s bank account that says otherwise.”
Oh, my God. I doubled over, and the bile in my stomach threatened to erupt. His harsh truth cut me into a thousand pieces.
But I inhaled a shallow breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Royce would put a stop to this madness. Right now, that idea was the only thing holding me together. And as he sat there, staring at his father in disbelief, the wheels were turning in his head. I could see him considering and plotting. He was weighing different scenarios and working up solutions.
I just needed to give him more time.
“You’re married,” I spat at Macalister.
He waved the comment off. “Alice and I have an understanding. Neither of us wants to limit the other.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m not, and never will be, interested.”
Why the hell did he look pleased? Perhaps he thrilled at the chase.
“I admitted I underestimated you, but now,” a pompous, sexual look spread across his face, “I believe you are doing the same.” The frightening desire in his gaze faded as it shifted back to his son. “How does twenty thousand shares sound?”
I didn’t know exactly what HBHC was trading at, but it was usually around a hundred dollars a share. Macalister hadn’t just offered his son two million dollars, he’d offered so much more. There was considerable power connected to the shares.
“No,” Royce said.
I let out a heavy, grateful breath.
Macalister’s jaw ticked with displeasure. “What would it take? Fifty?”
Royce’s chest moved with his rapid, uneven breath, but that was the only indication he wasn’t fine. He was calm and business-like when he spoke. “I want the house.”
No.
My heart careened through my body to my toes, hitting every painful spot on the way down. How could he? How could he sell me out, and how the fuck could he do it so easily?
“Which house?” His father’s expression was dubious. “This house?” When it was clear the answer was yes, he scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Royce’s clenched fist relaxed, just enough that the blood started to flow again, and hope sparked in me as I realized what this was.
A bluff.
“It’s worth about the same,” Royce offered.
That confirmed what he was doing, and more relief snaked through me. He’d picked one of the few things his father wouldn’t trade away. While the house might have similar monetary value, it had greater value elsewhere. Maybe sentimental, but I doubted it. Perhaps it was the power. If the house was put in Royce’s name, Macalister would be living under his son’s roof.
And he couldn’t abide that.
The thought must have hit Macalister at the same moment, because he turned so frigid, I expected to see his frosty breath on the air.
Royce had his father on the ropes and wasn’t going to let up until he could claim victory. “It’ll be mine eventually. Signing the house over to me is really just a formality.”
“I was too generous.” A humorless smile twisted on Macalister’s handsome face. “I didn’t have to offer you anything. It was my money that brought her here. You didn’t make the deal and you don’t have any leverage.”
“I don’t?” Royce’s smug smile was almost as evil as his father’s had been. “Maybe things aren’t working out, and I break off the engagement. Doesn’t make much sense for her to keep living here, does it?”
If I wasn’t here, Macalister couldn’t control. He wouldn’t be able to get at me.
“One hundred thousand shares.”
Royce turned to stone, but I flinched for him. That had to be more than ten million dollars, and at that volume, it’d increase his stake in the company considerably—all while decreasing his father’s.
Macalister’s unexpected swing had landed and caught Royce off guard. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the disorientation from the blow. It was so much money and power.
“One hundred thousand.” He repeated his father’s words because there was no way he’d heard them correctly.
Realizing his opponent was stumbling backward, Macalister went on the attack. “You’d have the second highest controlling stake in the company after me.”
Outwardly, there wasn’t a change in Royce, but still—it was unmistakable. I was on the edge of a collapsing cliff, and rather than help me, he took a step back. Brutal, unforgiving awareness washed through me.
He was going to save himself.
I’d been warned by both of them. Royce had told me the only thing he cared about was taking over at the company, and Macalister had said his son would sell me out the first chance he got. But no amount of warning could prepare me for the cold, distant look in Royce’s eyes. It was like he was already counting his stacks of money.
He was already planning how he’d use this new influence to his advantage.
Whatever deal they’d strike, they’d both lose. I’d never let Macalister get what he wanted, and Royce’s betrayal would be too much. But this wasn’t about winning me. It was a power struggle between father and son, and I was merely a pawn to battle over.
I had to do something, stop this from happening. He’d tell me the truth if it was only us. It burst from me. “I’d like to speak to Royce alone.”
“No.”
The word came instantly, but not from Macalister, and my insides broke like glass. Shock turned my head toward Royce. No? How could he deny me after everything I’d done for him? I’d waited. I’d let him keep me in the dark. I’d saved him from the worst of it in the dining room downstairs.
My voice shook just as I did. “You owe me at least a conversation.”
The man who I believed lived inside him, the one who’d been so caring in the wine cellar, was nowhere to be found. A terrified voice in my mind cried ou
Royce’s tone was impersonal. “I don’t owe you anything.”
The engagement ring on my hand was suddenly so tight and heavy, I wanted it gone. Hot tears stung my eyes.
“Don’t do this,” I whispered, but hearing my plea did nothing to break through his façade. I fractured, and hopelessness seeped through each crack, forcing them wider.
“Tell me again,” Macalister’s tone was condescending, “how it’s just about sex.”
His father’s challenge was the final blow.
“One hundred thousand shares,” Royce demanded, “and I want that in writing.” He said it fast, like a bandage being yanked off a wound, but it didn’t make the pain any easier.
I went numb as Macalister stood and held out his hand.
No, I wanted to scream, but horror held my tongue captive. He was going to destroy everything.
They say when someone shows you who they really are, you should believe them. Now I’d have no choice.
It all moved so slowly and too fast at the same time. Royce rose from his seat and clasped his father’s hand. Whatever was the truth between us, it died in that moment. It hurt to breathe, but then I didn’t have to because my body refused to work. Every system ground to a halt and shut down.
Like I wasn’t even in the room, Macalister gestured to the prenup on the desk. “I’ll have this revised to reflect your new assets.”
Royce nodded. He turned and started for the door, refusing to look at me. Maybe he couldn’t, or maybe he didn’t fucking care.
“Royce,” I hissed.
He paused.
I stared at his back, waiting for him to face me. I should have known he wouldn’t. It was win at all costs, and the cost had been me.
For the third time in my life, he walked out the door without glancing back, leaving me gutted.
With his exit, the atmosphere in the room changed and became more dangerous.
I was on my own. But it also made it easier to focus and respond to the threat when I didn’t have anyone else to rely on. I glared at Macalister, who looked at me with desire and victory, like I was a million-dollar bonus he’d earned.
My chest heaved in labored breaths, and with it, I found strength in my anger. Maybe I’d grow hard and truly become Medusa. I’d find the power to become a monster and turn my enemies to stone.
I’d never spoken truer words. “You’ll never own me.”
Macalister took a moment to consider my statement before he pushed back from his desk and stood. He sauntered toward me, his piercing eyes teeming with domination, and by the time I realized I should run, it was already too late.
“Everyone has a price, Marist. Tonight, we found Royce’s.” He leaned over and placed his hands on the armrests of my chair, imprisoning me beneath him. “Now I start looking for yours.”
* * *
Thank you so much for reading THE INITIATION!
Dying to know what happens next in the Filthy Rich Americans saga? Find out in THE OBSESSION!
Don't forget to sign up for my newsletter to hear about new books and sales...
www.nikkisloane.com/newsletter
You can also join my Facebook reader group, Nikki's Naughty Nymphs, for exclusives and hot read recommendations.
Thank you so much for reading. If you enjoyed the book, please help spread the word. Tell a friend, share on social media, or leave a review on your favorite book site. I love when new readers find my stories, and I appreciate your help!
OTHER BOOKS BY NIKKI SLOANE
THE BLINDFOLD CLUB SERIES
It Takes Two | FREE
Three Simple Rules
Three Hard Lessons
Three Little Mistakes
Three Dirty Secrets
Three Sweet Nothings
Three Guilty Pleasures
One More Rule
The Blindfold Club Collection | Books 1-3 bundle
THE SORDID SERIES
Sordid
Torrid
The Sordid Duet
Destroy
SPORTS ROMANCE
The Rivalry
THE NASHVILLE NEIGHBORHOOD
The Doctor
FILTHY RICH AMERICANS
The Initiation
The Obsession | Coming August 13
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and foremost, I need to thank the incomparable Sierra Simone for her advice, her support, and her brilliance. After she’d agreed to beta read, I immediately texted my husband, “She said yes!” like I’d asked her to prom—that’s how excited I was. I don’t know how she found time in her crazy writing schedule to provide such a thoughtful critique of THE INITIATION, but I’m beyond grateful. I also want to thank her for being an inspiration. Her writing is on a whole other level, and it’s one I hope to reach someday.
There are several authors and book friends I want to thank. Strong, wickedly smart women who never hesitate to lend advice, lift others up, or be generally awesome. I am so privileged to call you my friends.
Thank you, Skye Warren, for guiding me to make it a trilogy and not put Medusa on the cover. (LOL) Thanks to Kyla Linde for being so great with my blurb when I sent her a hot mess. Thanks to Veronica Larsen for listening to endless, rambling voicemails. And a big thank you to Sarah MacLean, Becca “Can’t wait to read your sex bank book” Mysoor, Laurelin Paige, Kennedy Ryan, Aubrey Bondurant, Len Webster, Marni Mann, and Elle Kennedy.
I owe an enormous amount of gratitude to my publicist Nina Grinstead. Her advice at every stage of the process was spot-on, and this book would be nothing without her.
To my beta readers Andrea Leftkowitz and Nikki Terrill, thank you. The draft I submitted to them wasn’t easy, but they dialed me in to where I needed to be. I can’t tell you how much I appreciated it. A huge thank you to them for being brave and delivering news they didn’t want to, but needed to.
As always, thank you to my editor Lori Whitwam for cleaning up my dirty and grammatically incorrect words.
I owe a big thanks to my father for answering all my questions about corporate structure, board meetings, and stocks. I promise him I’ll read BARBARIANS AT THE GATE as long as he never reads this book.
Thank you to my cousin’s husband Wes for giving me a sexy, beautiful Medusa illustration.
And I have to say thank you to my amazing husband, who I love more than anything. He put up with a solid week of me telling him, “I’ve only got one more scene left to write, so I’m finishing tonight!” Thankfully, he’s used to my bullshit lies by now.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nikki Sloane fell into graphic design after her careers as a waitress, a screenwriter, and a ballroom dance instructor fell through. For eight years she worked for a design firm in that extremely tall, black, and tiered building in Chicago that went through an unfortunate name change during her time there.
Now she lives in Kentucky, is married and has two sons. She is a three-time Romance Writers of America RITA© Finalist, also writes romantic suspense under the name Karyn Lawrence, and couldn't be any happier that people enjoy reading her sexy words.
Website: NikkiSloane.com
Goodreads: Nikki Sloane Author Page
Twitter: @AuthorNSloane
Facebook: Nikki Sloane
Instagram: nikkisloane
COPYRIGHT
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2019 by Nikki Sloane
Cover photography © iStock Images
Medusa illustration © Wes Harvey | Instagram: i_am_suspect_zero
ARC Edition
-->